The Case of the Broken Door Handle
by alexandralsh
Summary: John has been avoiding Sherlock, but Sherlock doesn't understand why, he also quite likes John's jumpers. So when the two are locked into their flat, will John have to face up to his feelings? Johnlock.


John has been avoiding Sherlock, but Sherlock doesn't understand why, he also quite likes John's jumpers.. So when the two are locked into their flat, will John have to face up to his feelings? Johnlock.

* * *

The case had been solved, John's mind was on other things, but Sherlock had it covered. Sherlock had noticed that John had been avoiding him, but didn't particularly understand, he had not, to his knowledge, said anything rude to John, and his behaviour was the same as always. He simply had not seen enough of John to make any deductions.

And Sherlock hated not knowing things.

''Tea?'' Sherlock called out, John was in his room but quite able to hear him.

''No, no,'' came the reply, ''I'm heading out.''

Sherlock sighed, it had become routine, and the only time that Sherlock would make tea, after the case has been solved. John came down into the living room fairly quickly._ The jumper and jeans were the same as he had been wearing all day, so he clearly wasn't meeting someone, not a date._

For some reason this made Sherlock feel better...but he shook the thought away and continued.

_Hair. He'd run his hands through his hair, quite a few times, it looked like. Stress. Clearly. But what could be causing that? Their work was done. He looked tired, not overly, just enough to suggest he had awoken a few times the night before. Bad dreams? Perhaps army related? No._ Sherlock could always tell, _he had been dreaming of something else._

''Where are you going?''

''Just out, I'll be back later.''

And with that John turned on his heel and went to the door. Sherlock sighed and made his own tea, using the last of the milk,

''John, can you get some-''

His question was interrupted by a dull thud, and John's footsteps back to the living room.

''Does this have anything to do with you?''

In John's hand, was the door handle. The other half had fallen off on the other side of the door. Sherlock shook his head adamantly, ''No, of course not. Can you not get out?''

John simply sighed and turned his back to Sherlock, ''I'll call Mrs Hudson...''

It was no use, as John quickly found, Mrs Hudson was out with her friend, and John didn't want to have to ask her to leave. Sherlock took a seat in his chair, watching John. He really was too kind, but it didn't bother him in the way it usually did with others. John wasn't stupid, as so many were these days, to him at least. But the way he was avoiding eye contact, constantly spending time in his room, confused him. It wasn't often that Sherlock was confused. John started to head back to his bedroom, ''John, stop.''

He did, but not turning to face Sherlock. Sherlock got up and walked behind John, who finally turned around. Sherlock's brow creased in concentration, he could tell that John was hiding something, but he could also tell that he was thinking. Over thinking to be precise. John frowned, ''Stop that!''

''Stop what?''

''Deducing me. Stop it.''

''Then tell me what you're hiding!''

John walked round Sherlock and onto the sofa, picking up a book and attempting to read it, his mind busy with other things. Sherlock said nothing and went back to his chair, crossing his legs and smirking slightly, as he watched John.

_That bloody smirk_, John thought, _that bloody adorable smirk._

_Wait. Adorable? Stop it. Not now! Not while he's watching you._

Sherlock noticed the expression on John's face. He was annoyed, but what had he done to cause this? Sherlock's behaviour was quite normal, for him. He quickly moved to stand in front of John, John's eyes trailing up to meet his. ''What have I done?''

''Nothing, Sherlock,'' he replied calmly. Causing a sigh of frustration from Sherlock, pouting like a child. At the pout, John's lips almost creased into a smile. Almost. He tried to stop himself. Sherlock studied him carefully, a subtle pink blush fading into John's cheeks. Quickly, he grabbed John's arm, causing him to drop the book, and measuring his pulse. It got quicker, his pupils dilated slightly,

''John, what is it?'' Sherlock asked, in frustration.

''**I like you**!'' John shouted, before sighing, ''I mean I- I-'' He stopped and shook his head.

''Oh...'' Well Sherlock would never have guessed that. Slightly stunned, he dropped John's arm and nodded, sitting back in his own chair, still watching John. John's mind was overloaded with thoughts_. You're an idiot. You should never have said. You don't even know what this is, you're not even gay!_ But that didn't stop the way his heart quickened when Sherlock complimented him, or when he did that damn pouty face. But why wasn't he saying anything? He clearly didn't feel the same way, but no response what so ever?

The truth is, this whole emotion was rather a frightening concept to Sherlock. He was aware that people had liked him before, but never felt the same. He liked John. Obviously. But he wasn't sure about the idea of a romantic attachment. Either way, since he sat down, he hadn't stopped staring.

He constantly looked for assurance from him, as he never had with anyone else. He found that very odd. But when he was right, and John had given him that little nod, then he was happy. He had done right, in John's eyes, and for some reason that mattered.

He liked the skill with which he worked, and the compassion with others that he lacked.

He liked his jumpers.

That was something he wouldn't admit to, of course. They would look rather stupid on anyone else, but on John...it just fit.

John stood up, presumably to leave, but Sherlock intercepted. He stood less than an inch away from him, causing a sigh from the soldier. ''Sherlock, move.''

''No.'' Sherlock once again took his wrist, but this time guided his hand to his own pulse. Letting John feel the effect he was having on him. It was fast, John being so close made it that way, and as John's eyes met his, he felt, vulnerable.

But he decided he didn't mind.

''You're a git.'' John broke the silence, and Sherlock's expression quickly fell into a frown,

''W-What? Why?''

John leaned in and kissed the detective, softly, nothing too passionate, but intimate all the same. Sherlock didn't know what to do, he'd never been kissed like that, never so...meaningful. And with John's hand on his wrist, they both knew he had enjoyed it.

''I don't understand,'' Sherlock said softly.

''Well that's a first,'' John replied with a chuckle.

Sherlock took his other hand and pressed it against the soft fabric of John's jumper, taking his turn to initiate the kiss after softly whispering,

''I like you too.''

_In the end, only Sherlock, with several screws in his pocket, was able to solve the case of the broken door handle..._


End file.
